


Interrupted Moments

by grandfatherclock



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: Fjord starts to lose himself, just a little bit.Jester and Caleb remind him of what's important.





	Interrupted Moments

It was nice, here. The soft light filtered pleasantly through the open windows, leaving the entire room, already painted a gentle peach, in a soft, orange hue. Fjord could hear the faint sounds of birds chirping, the occasional rustling of the curtains when the breeze made them flick against each other. The noise of the busy movement of people outside the tavern blended into the background. The sky was a brilliant blue out, and he couldn’t spy a cloud in _sight_ —which, normally, would entice him to go outside, and see where the journey would lead him. That wasn’t the blue he wanted to think about right now, though.

Caleb moved slightly, raising a hand to flip a page in his spellbook. It was lying open on the floor in front of him, his legs crossed and a determined little frown playing on his lips. He looked down to his lap, at Fjord watching him, and something that Fjord couldn’t quite understand, something he couldn’t quite figure out if he _wanted_ to understand, flitted through his eyes. “I'm sorry,” Caleb said, suddenly.

Fjord furrowed his eyebrows. “Hmm?” His voice sounded a little hazy in his ears. His head was resting on Caleb’s leg, one of Caleb's hands running lazily through Fjord’s hair. Caleb's ratty coat was folded neatly and placed beside them, with Frumpkin, in his cat form, circling it protectively. The fact that every time Fjord wanted to cuddle with Caleb the cat was banished from his person had not escaped the fey creature, whose tail flicked almost violently. Frumpkin, noticing Fjord looking at him from the corner of his eye, hissed and he returned an innocent little smile.

It was fine, that Caleb's devil cat hated him. He didn't see why, considering Frumpkin probably got at least half the attention and care Caleb had to give to others, but then again, perhaps the answer was evident in the question. He tried to imagine Caleb showing _him_ such unfiltered, trusting adoration, and, _uh…_ He let out a breathless little laugh. The thought twisted like a knife in his head. He wouldn't know what to do with that kind of love. Hell, he barely knew what to do with what Caleb gave him _now_. Jester’s forceful affection made him feel awkward and blustering too _much_ and too _little_ , all at the same _fucking_ time. He was resting on Caleb's lap, and Caleb was running his blackened fingers through Fjord's hair, and they were sharing a smile. It was lovely. It was everything he could've wanted. It was so, _so_  painful.

Caleb's eyes flicked away from him momentarily, as he mouthed arcane words to himself, and then he looked back at Fjord, and Fjord found his gaze caught in those light blue eyes. Something seemed to shift in them—a warmth, almost. He knew it wouldn’t be something Caleb would like him to comment on, or, at least he _used_ to know that. He didn’t know much of anything anymore. It was like all his fucking voices, or Caleb's little scars… subjects that weren’t quite forbidden but it wasn’t like they could _talk_ _about them_. “I'm sorry, Fjord,” Caleb repeated, pulling him away from his racing thoughts. He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was clear what he was talking about, like it was natural for him to apologize.

Fjord felt a sudden fondness overwhelm him, and was reminded yet again that this was more than just someone he occasionally fucked with Jester. He looked at the way Caleb's hair seemed to glow in the soft morning light, and thought, wryly, _As if I need the reminder_. “Thank you, Caleb.” He watched as Caleb tilted his head a little, as he said his name. He said it so differently than Jester, who liked to draw it out.  _You look so pretty, Cayleb_ , she’d cooed when they’d bullied him into getting a better haircut. Fjord was more utilitarian in nature—sailors didn’t giggle and tease out their partner’s names. He imagined drawing out Sabien’s name, and winced. Caleb, who'd been watching his face all this time, cleared his throat, and Fjord blinked up at him, his cheeks flushing a darker green. He tried to give Caleb a teasing smile. “I have to say I'd appreciate your apology _more_ if I knew what you were apologizing for.”

He creased his eyebrows, and looked confused before realization dawned on his face. “Ah,” he said, and there was a sudden look of such genuine loathing that momentarily flashed on his face before Caleb smoothed out his expression. Fjord knew that look intimately, had felt it deep in his bones his entire fucking life. It was the type of hatred one could only reserve for themselves. “I'm sorry,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek, “about what I said on the Squall-Eater.”

“Ball-Eater,” Fjord corrected immediately, meeting his gaze and quirking up his lips. He felt the sudden desire to lift out his hand and rest it against Caleb’s face, but _no_ , _gods_ no, that would would be so soft of him, and Caleb would be too kind to mention how painfully _awkward_ it would be—

Caleb gave him the slightest little smirk. The lazy movement of his fingers against Fjord’s hair was so fucking perfect, and Fjord resisted the urge to sigh. “Back when it was still the Squall-Eater, Schatz,” he murmured.

Fjord felt the surprise at the term of endearment start to express itself on his face, and he schooled his features not to react. He really needed to get his hands on a Common-Zemnian dictionary. _Schatz_. He tried to remember the way it sounded, the way he enunciated it. It was gentle, more gentle than he was used to with Caleb. More gentle _than he was used to_ , period. He nervously clenched his jaw, and wondered how fucked it was that _this_ , whatever _this_ was, already felt like a memory he was desperately clinging onto. It felt like the old days, in Zadash, when Caleb and Nott were one bad night from ditching them in the darkness of the night. _You’re being absurd_ , he thought to himself, hating the gnawing uncertainty that was growing inside of him. He tried to ground himself in the sensation of Caleb's hand lightly cupping his face, which Fjord himself had been so hesitant to do _just a fucking second ago_ —

“Fjord?” Caleb said, uncertainly. His lilting Zemnian voice sounded so _nice_ , and he remembered on the ship once, when a Dwendalian merchant had been lecturing Vandren, and Vandren had come over later hissing about how Zemnian sounded so _shitty_ and _harsh_ in his ears. He thought if Vandren could hear Caleb, the way Caleb said Fjord's name, he might've changed his mind. Caleb, looking at him. Caleb, with his hand against Fjord’s face. _Fuck_. He could hardly accept the light in Jester's dancing eyes, looking at him from across the room. Having him focused on Fjord a little felt like suffocating, a little like coming home. His red hair reminded him of Avantika more than Fjord wished, and he had such cold eyes sometimes, like Sabien. But not now. Right now, his burnt fingers danced over Fjord's face with a gentleness he only could’ve dreamed of receiving from his other lovers.

He remembered Jester with her hair messy, ribbons designed with outrageous colors tied against her horns, her face resting against his thigh. _Love doesn't have to hurt, Fjord_. His name, in her wonderful voice, which made every word that parted her lovely lips sound special.

“You're spinning.” Caleb's hard voice splintered through his hazy, confused thoughts. He looked away from Fjord, back to his book, and Fjord was so _fucking_ grateful. 

“I'm _fine_ ,” he said, feeling his face flush even further. It was comforting, mouthing that familiar line, except that the tension in Caleb’s shoulders didn’t release. Fjord averted his eyes, and worried his bottom lip. _When did I become so easy to read?_ One of his hands, which had been resting on his chest, began to play with a loose thread in his shirt nervously.

Caleb leaned forward, and turned to a new page in his spellbook. Fjord felt his faded white tunic temporarily brush the side of his face, and he breathed in the faint scent of incense. “You're not fine,” Caleb said, and he smiled a little ruefully. “It's okay, that you're not. But you’re not.” He bit his bottom lip, like he didn’t know whether he should continue talking, and Fjord desperately tried to show him through his eyes _not to_ — “But I'd like to know what I did, so I don't do it again.” There was that look again, like Caleb hated himself, like he didn’t know what he was doing here, and Fjord _hated it_.

He tilted his head. “ _Don't_.” He was a little surprised by how forceful he sounded. He raised his arm to entangle Caleb's fingers with his own. Fjord _really_ didn't know what would happen if they both got inside their own heads. Something regrettable, probably. He wondered if he ought to sit up, if they ought to do this face-to-face, or if that was just another excuse to leave this intimacy that was so wanted, and so painful, and so _awkward_ , for both of them. “You didn't do anything wrong.” He gestured to himself. “It’s just—my bullshit. I'm not…” He let a little smile play out on his face that he didn’t mean. “I’m not good at this.”

Caleb considered him carefully, and Fjord felt almost _delicate_ under that gaze. He kind of hated it. “Me too,” Caleb said. He wasn't looking at his book anymore. His cautious eyes were solely on Fjord, and Fjord remembered _other eyes_ … Uk’otoa, in his dreams. Avantika, in her office. Other kids, as he was kicked into the mud. He was _fucking_  always being watched. “I wanted to apologize. For how I acted on that ship. Telling you to do what you had to.” His hand on Fjord’s face went back to his hair, and _Fjord—_

Fjord’s jaw tightened. He would've loved to have lived the rest of his life without hearing the lilting insinuation behind those accented words, the judgement behind Caleb’s withering gaze. It reminded him of Avantika's heavy gaze, the piercings on her ears. Her strong, sure grip, telling him about Uk'otoa, all the power that was his to unlock, if he only would only just toe the line. “You were being pragmatic,” he said. His own voice sounded off to him, and he sounded more like a caricature than he usually did— _exaggerated_ and _stiff_ and _unconvincing_ , just a total charlatan. He remembered Sabien pushing him around when they were with Vandren, undermining him in front of others even as he groaned Fjord's name at night, hands clasped tight against the back of his head.

“You told Beauregard and I something,” Caleb continued, watching Fjord's reaction to his words very carefully. Fjord has to quirk up his lips at how he insisted on saying Beau’s entire name. It was something that was important to him. He’d mentioned once, when they were on the road, how in Zemnian folklore saying the names of monsters was bad luck. About how it invited them into into one's home. Fjord had said, softly, _And you_ _think you’re one of these monsters?_ When he'd hesitated, and given Fjord an unreadable expression, Fjord said, _Caleb_. He repeated it, again, and then again, until Caleb had broken their distance and weakly patted Fjord on the shoulder. Jester had found them, then, and squealed, hugging them both, crushing them into each other, and _that_ , that had been where it had all started. It had started with Fjord reciting Caleb’s name like it was an incantation. “Something I've been thinking about.” Fjord tilted his head back to Caleb, and tried not to let himself drift. There was an immediacy in his voice, and whatever he was going to say next, he clearly thought it was important. “You said you'd been on guard against people exploiting you for as long as you can remember.”

“Yeah,” Fjord said, quietly. That entire night sometimes felt like a blur. They’d come back to Zadash, and Fjord had _drunk_ , trying to drown out his thoughts. He’d never wanted to fucking think again, that night.

One of Caleb's hands, the one that wasn't stroking his hair and his face, let go of Fjord’s other hand, and absentmindedly rubbed at his own arm, where the scars were. “I pushed you into her arms.” He sounded a little disgusted.

“I wanted to.” Fjord hated how uncharacteristically soft his voice sounded. He cleared his throat, trying to get some measure of control back. “You don’t have to _apologize_ , I wanted your opinion.” He sounded shaken, despite his attempt to smooth out his voice, and Caleb raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“You did,” he agreed. There was judgement in his voice, but it wasn’t directed at _Fjord_ , and that felt… different. It felt wrong. “But I was wrong. To say that.”

Fjord looked away. “I don't want to talk about it,” he said. _Please_ , he thought, a little wildly. _You're so clever, can't you tell?_ _It’s all me, it’s my fault, I don’t blame you, please—_ It felt suddenly a little too hard to breathe. There was tension in his shoulders and his arms and his clenched fists and he didn’t know how to release it, he didn’t _know—_

Caleb nodded. His gaze turned back to his book, his hand absentmindedly stroking Fjord's chin and cheek and it was so _gentle_ and his hands were so _warm_ and it was _too much_ and not enough, would never _be_ enough, and _yet—_

The door slammed open and Fjord did his best to hide his momentary flinch. From Caleb's stilled hand, and the unreadable look he gave Fjord, he wasn't very successful.

“I'm _here_ ,” Jester said, her lips parted into a wide smile. She was wearing a red dress, long and frilly and different than the one she’d left in. She came with an excited gait to where they were sitting, and leaned down, putting a hand under Caleb's chin to tilt his face into an enthusiastic kiss. Fjord could see her open her mouth from this angle, and grinned, despite himself. Caleb being maneuvered by Jester was… It was a good look. She pulled away, biting her bottom lip, and beamed down at Fjord. “You look so _hot_ like this. Did you miss me?” 

He nodded, so impossibly grateful for her interruption. “Of course, Jester.” His voice was smooth, his words filtered, but despite himself, despite all his fucking bravado, he could see Jester’s wide smile subside, and his heart sank. What good was he, if he couldn't make her happy? He could practically hear Vandren in the back of his head with his hard gaze telling him to pull his weight and stop feeling sorry for himself. He hated this, hated having these two _brilliant_ , inquisitive people looking down at him like he was something _precious_.

Jester looked at Caleb, and he gave her an even look. Though Caleb seemed unreadable to him, Jester's brows creased and she sighed, her eyes so fucking fond. “I'm glad,” she said simply. She put her hand to Caleb's face, and he seemed to freeze momentarily, before giving her a stiff, but not entirely ingenuine, smile. It was softness, vulnerability, that he could only ever manage to show her.

Fjord was jealous and grateful all at once. “Glad, Jester?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to appear relaxed, despite the fact that she _knew_ , they all _knew_. He couldn’t stop his act for even a moment, and he wanted to cringe.

Jester's eyes slid from Caleb to him. “Yes,” she said simply, shrugging a little. “I found a cute _dress_ ” _—_ she paused, and leaned up a little to twirl and give them a better look, before going back to her previous position _—_ “and you both are so _handsome_ , and the sky is so _nice_ and _blue_ , just like _me_ , and we've finally started talking about the _ocean_.” She gave him a pointed look. “I'm _glad_.”

“I don't—” Fjord began, clenching his jaw. He hated his instinctual defensiveness. This was _Jester_ , what was he so fucking _scared of_ —

She sat in front of Caleb and grabbed both of Fjord's hands, forcing them to unclench, and held them on her lap. “It was rough,” she said. Her hair was in a careful braid that he’d watched Caleb do for her that morning. It was messy, with tufts pulled out from their proper places here and there, and Fjord felt a momentary lightness in his chest, wondering who she’d fucked up in the middle of her shopping. “We weren't on the same page. I'm glad we're getting there.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes bright. “Because it… hurt _me_ , Fjord. Watching you _hurt_.”

He took a shaking breath. “Please,” he almost begged, and widened his eyes a little in horror at how pathetic he sounded. He found himself getting up, even though it was the last thing he wanted, and found himself hating Caleb for letting him leave. Jester simply nodded at him, like she’d expected his reaction, which pissed him off even more, and he watched her take one of Caleb's hands in her own.

And _Caleb…_ Caleb wore a neutral, cold expression. Like he could tell any more warmth and Fjord would fucking break. He wanted to laugh a little. _You clever fucking bastard._ He didn't want Caleb to be careful. He wanted what they had five minutes ago, before Caleb brought up how fucking easily he got played by Avantika, how alone he felt walking down those corridors late at night… Any more, and they’d soon be talking about how calculating and shitty they had been when they’d done that blood ritual. How it seemed right in all the wrong ways. How it felt like Avantika dragging her fingernails down his back. He didn't want to talk about that. He didn't.

“Fjord,” Caleb said, and Fjord found himself still a little obsessed with how his name sounded on Caleb's tongue. “I don't”—and he gave Jester a look only she could decipher, and she nodded—“want loving me to hurt.”

Love. Love, love, _love_. Fjord’s hands tightened into fists. Caleb Widogast didn't talk about love. Not if he could help it. Fjord wasn’t _stupid_ , he knew there were things about that man he didn’t know, and he could see invisible little scars _all over him_ … Jester had mentioned someone named _Astrid_ , and one night, after Beau had watched Caleb kiss him before he left to go upstairs, she’d muttered, _And he thought he couldn’t fall in love again._ Caleb looked like a man whose love had cost him. They looked at each other, and in the still silence, Frumpkin suddenly hissed and triumphantly leaped into Caleb's lap, leering at Fjord and giving him the evil eye.

There was another pause. It was Jester who giggled first, her hands raised and clasped against her mouth. Fjord watched as Caleb's lips broke into an affectionate little smile, and his shaking hand was also raised, to pet the demon cat. Frumpkin purred, extremely pleased with himself.

Fjord felt his tension in his shoulders ease, and he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at his own hands, themselves scarred from countless scraps he'd gotten himself involved in. “This doesn't hurt,” he said, his voice rough, not looking at them but hearing Jester's giggling subside. “It's… weird. Like it _hurts_ , how much it _doesn't_ hurt. You know?” He could feel _something_ prickle in his eyes, and he shook his head to himself. He was _not_ going to cry, he _wasn’t_ —

“ _Fjord_ ,” Caleb said, gently. 

He looked at them then, to Jester's furrowed brows and tilted head, and to Caleb's thinned lips. “What happened… maybe we should talk.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “But it… _we…_ don't hurt. Haven't for awhile.” There was a soft silence, and then he added, reluctantly meeting Jester's eyes and then looking to the scarred and burned hand Jester had gone back to holding in her grasp, “Haven't since Dashilla.”

Caleb froze for a second at that name, and then he got up, slowly and deliberately, letting Frumpkin jump onto Jester. He reached Fjord sitting on the bed, and after the briefest hesitance, put his hands on Fjord's shoulders and pulled him close. “ _Fjord_ ,” he repeated, like his name was an arcane word he was having trouble with, and Fjord was glad his face was hidden, because he could feel traitorous tears well up.

He breathed into Caleb’s shirt, and raised his arms hesitantly to embrace him back. “We'll make it work, right?” His voice was slightly muffled. It was funny how things that seemed so sure just minutes ago could all suddenly be thrown into question.

He felt another set of arms, strong and slightly chilling, and he smiled into Caleb's tunic. “We'll make it work,” Jester said, her cheerful, lilting voice determined.

Caleb's hand was back in Fjord's hair, and Fjord closed his eyes. Hearing Caleb say _Ja_ as Fjord could feel his every intake of breath?

It felt a little bit like heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Join this small widofjorester server I made because I felt like it, if you're inclined! Let's experience rarepair hell together djdjdjdkf: https://discord.gg/qQeGJD2


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